


William versus... the three braincells the rest of the dispatch share

by xxJillianElizabethxx



Category: Kuroshitsuji | Black Butler
Genre: Canon Trans Character, Female Pronouns for Grell Sutcliff, Gen, I wrote this in like 20 minutes but I'm not sorry, Ronnie is a playboy in death and was certainly one in life too, Slingphries if you squint, inspired by a tumblr post, it's chaos, please don't take this too seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:02:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,463
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28865982
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxJillianElizabethxx/pseuds/xxJillianElizabethxx
Summary: “Grelle once stole a baby human from some random mother and took them to the Grim Reaper Dispatch, claiming it was her baby. Mr. High Branches was not amused at all.” based on a headcanon someone posted on tumblr [linked in the the story]
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13





	William versus... the three braincells the rest of the dispatch share

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: I have so many other things I should be doing right now, but I saw a headcanon and I needn’t to do this. This was a quick thing with minimal editing so I apologize in advance. Also, I’m not really a comedy writer, but I tried.

_[ thank you to sebas-chanchan on tumblr for letting me use her iconic proposal ](https://sebas-chanchan.tumblr.com/post/640755052853788672/my-own-random-hcs) _

“Sutcliffe!” The stern voice of one William T. Spears echoed through the halls of the dispatch.

The accused red-headed reaper flinched at the sound, but continued walking, hunched over with her back to her boss.

“Sutcliffe, what do you have in your arms? – I know you’re hiding something from me.” He quickened his pace, catching up to her and blocking her exit from the corridor. 

He looked down, stunned. In Grelle’s arms, wrapped in her flaming red coat was… a baby?

“Please don’t tell me you _stole_ a child from the mortal realm.” He looked exhausted, pinching the bridge of his nose and squeezing his eyes shut. He mentally berated himself for thinking he could last one day at work without Grelle giving him a migraine. _Honestly._

“Well~” She drew the word out, looking up at him with a pout. She batted her eyelashes in an attempt to soften the cold eyes that were staring down at her. But William would not relent.

She stamped her foot in protest. “You know I’ve always wanted to be a mother, so far back as when I was alive; and now that you see me seizing that chance you try to punish me for it. How cruel you are indeed, my darling. What’s wrong with my raising a baby?”

“Here? In the reaper realm?” William’s patience had snapped. “Absolutely not, bring it back to its actual mother.”

“Back? But I can’t!”

“Why not?”

 _Oh no._ She needed an excuse – and fast. Not wanting to give up the opportunity she had dreamed of, she blurted the first thing that came to mind.

“It’s my own child!”

The director raised an eyebrow, silently scolding her whilst conveying his desire for her to continue.

“Sutcliffe, you know I couldn’t care less about… whatever you are or call yourself; but I do know you became a serial killer out of spite because you don’t have the necessary anatomy to have a child.” Grelle could not deny, he made a very good point.

“I didn’t mean I birthed the thing,” she proceeded cautiously, “I mean, I had help?”

“I don’t believe that.”

The reply was monotone and matter-of-fact. William was not buying her charade.

“You expect me to believe you were caring for an infant whilst running around on a murder spree with that Red woman? Absolutely not.”

“But, but Will, darling–”

“I am not your darling, and you will return that child to whatever family it has left. And you’d better hope it’s mother was on the to-die list, because you better believe I’ll be checking that you haven’t gone rogue again.”

“And in the meantime,” he added, dragging her back to his office by her collar, “you will be doing overtime for the next two months.”

“Oh c’mon Mr. Spears, don’t be like that.”

Ronald rounded the corner, his ridiculous death scythe resting across his shoulders. He walked up to his mentor, took the baby from her hands, winked at the secretary he had been walking with, then finally turned to William.

“I took care of this one during her ripper days and her suspension. Right mess it was, but the ladies like a family man, ya know?”

William T. Spears did not, in fact, “know” – and the sharp glare he gave the junior reaper reinforced such.

The three walked back to the main offices, Grelle playing up her lie and Ronald all too willing to join in on the fun.

They passed a few friends in the hall, all asking questions that seemed to be playing into their game. William was at the end of his rope.

“I remember when she first showed him to me, he was such a sweet little thing,” the youngest prattled, absent-mindedly stroking the toddler’s face. “He reminded me so much of my own little boy.”

“Wait! Ronnie, you had a kid when you were alive?” another voice enquired in a thick Scottish accent.

“Eric, hey, you remember this little guy, right?” He hardly cared that panic was dripping from his voice as he forced a very cheesy smile at his senior, hoping to avoid going into _that_ conversation.

He passed the bundle back to Grelle. He squirmed a bit in her arms, reaching up to play with her long red hair and babbling nonsense.

“As a member of management I cannot allow this to go on any longer,” William sighed. He summoned his averruncator in preparation for dragging Grelle away by force when another reaper joined their circle.

Alan Humphries was the savior who pronounced, “there is no actual rule about having children in the realm.”

He was holding Eric’s hand, clearly looking for support from his– well, no one quite knew, and William, for one, certainly did not care.

“What was that, Humprhies?”

“Oh!” Grelle’s shrill voice pierced through his ears in recognition, “I’m sure you heard him loud and clear. I’m allowed to keep the kid – and clearly if I’ve gone this long without you realising, I’m doing a good job at taking care of him.” She added the last bit quickly, impulsively, hoping it would make it all more believable.

“But have you,” he chastised, challenging her, “have you really had that child very long?”

“Over a year I’d say,” someone's voice piped up.

“Yeah, the little one finally took to calling me Opa just a few weeks ago!” yet another voice called from the crowd that was beginning to form.

“We had a baptism and everything, sir,” a secretarial reaper called out, putting her chin on Grelle’s shoulder before reaching over to pet the tiny tufts of hair on the tiny head peeking out of the coat he was still swaddled in. Then she looked up at William, “there was cake!”

“And Alan’s the godmother!” Ronald called out, draping his arm across the brunette in question. He blushed a bit, but played along.

“Yeah, Grelle let Eric and I take on those duties,” he laughed, easing up.

“Little Ronnie was fair angry at her for not picking him for the job.” the other added.

“You’re still the fun uncle, though dear,” Grelle smiled, patting her frowning mentee’s hair affectionately.

William had officially had enough. His temper was rising and he was falling behind schedule. Everyone, actually, was falling behind schedule. He was red in the face as he ordered them back to work. Some swore they could see smoke coming from his ears as he threatened overtime on anyone who hesitated even slightly.

“Sutcliffe, give that child over to someone else. We need to talk about actual work.”

“Of course, my love!” Her voice sang through the hall as she skipped over to him.

Once she was at his side, he began droning about her collections, her overdue paperwork. She rolled her eyes, picked at her nails, twirled her hair – did anything to resist the urge to bite back.

She dutifully kept her mouth shut as he commented on her lack of dress code adherence, and offered only a few well-timed exclamations as he explained the details of her punishment, protesting only slightly that she had done nothing to warrant such responsibilities.

He was skeptical of her, leading her into his office and offering her a seat across from his desk. Normally he would give anything for her to shut up, but now he was confused, worried even. Why was she so silent, so obedient?

“Did you have any trouble with your collections today?” He asked, trying to put on an air of genuine concern to hide his ulterior motive of sourcing her odd behavior.

She sighed, seeming disinterested. “Boring stuff, no one even bothered to get murdered today. Mostly accidents, one guy got trampled by a horse which was not nearly as amusing as it sounds.”

William did not find it amusing at all. The straight line of his mouth made certain Grelle understood such.

“And my last collection was this poor widow who had a heart attack as she sat knitting – she died knitting William! – whilst her baby napped.”

A brief lapse in her façade showed itself to William who looked at Grelle with too much severity for her to find endearing now.

“And what happened to the napping child?”

“I don’t know,” she stuttered unconvincingly, “I just took the poor thing’s record and left.”

Her excuse hung in the air between them. Grelle felt like the office she was far too used to being scolded within was closing in around her. Quietly, innocently, her director retrieved his death scythe, using it to adjust his spectacles before pointing it at her.

“Sutcliffe.” There was an edge to his tone, threatening, foreboding.

“Bring the child back to the mortal realm.”

“But I–”

“No, now!”


End file.
